Fate's Attendant 1.9

It being a beautiful spring day, lunch was to be served outside under a pavilion nestled between the training hall and primary kitchens. Flowering vines wove through the gaps above, wafting their fragrance below. Nearby, a stream pleasantly warbled.

The table was set for nine, but only two sat at it currently—one at his leisure, Zhang Dehua, and the other uncomfortably, Hong Fei.

The steward was meant to be perusing a stack of papers, but from the way he continued to gaze unseeing at the topmost one, his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.

“Does the emperor know?” Hong Fei asked softly.

Rousing, Zhang Dehua answered, “The emperor deems to look away from something he considers unsightly. Whether he’s passed on the information to others is uncertain.”

Hong Fei gazed at the vines above. As the house’s newest defender, he must learn to think like its enemies. “The other noble houses will likely act to probe the house for weaknesses, then. Acting unofficially.”

“Which is why the duke needs someone accustomed to such things,” the steward replied, rubbing a stain on his sleeve.

That’s the nature of being a dūtóu, Hong Fei thought. Our troops are specialized in shadowed movements and clever strikes. “You don’t approve of this approach,” he noted aloud.

The observation startled Zhang Dehua. “Whether I approve or not doesn’t matter. What does is your competence. Prove that, and I’ll shower you with praise if that’s what you want. Just don’t ask for more money. The family’s finances are already stretched thin.” A faint smile came to his lips. “And that is a secret, even from the emperor.”

“Then why tell me?” Hong Fei asked.

“To prove my sincerity,” Zhang Dehua said, “and show my trust in the… duke’s judgement. You don’t understand yet. Without him, we would’ve been lost—hounded and spent by those arrayed against us.”

He means the duchess, Hong Fei thought. I must work with him to ensure the masquerade doesn’t fail. He said aloud, “The two of us need to trust each other.”

The steward nodded. “Exactly. I’ll alert the heads of staff and soldiers about your new role. You should…”

The soft conversation was interrupted by the patter of light steps upon a bridge leading to the pavilion. Several of the youths Hong Fei had previously seen approached the table—hair wet, smelling of soap, and laughing among themselves.

Present were the duke’s grandson and granddaughter along with a companion each, one of whom was the fairy-like woman with the black five floating above her head. All of them cast curious eyes at Hong Fei sitting at the table.

“What’s this, Uncle Zhang?” the fairy exclaimed. “Have you finally adopted one of your beloved crows and brought him to lunch?”

That set the other youths to snickering, while Hong Fei glanced down at his attire. The cut of his clothes wasn’t that severe, was it? Or was it his face? He’d lost much of his fighting weight over the past six months.

“Oh no,” the fairy said, approaching to touch his arm. “Please don’t take offense. It was only that you were glowering so, and—” She playfully gestured toward the steward. “We’re all convinced only the crows love Uncle Zhang with how eminently practical he dresses himself. He frightens the beautiful birds away.”

None of the youths blinked at hearing the steward sigh. There was the sense of well-worn familiarity in the sound.

Zhang Dehua said, “You must be more wary, Mei Hua. While this man is our house’s newest retainer, you cannot assume everyone you meet within the walls is a friend.”

“Then I apologize,” the young woman named Mei Hua said, looking suitably chastised. “I’ll strive to do better. But who is he? None of us has met him before.”

Zhang Dehua gestured for the youths to sit. “I present to you, Hong Fei, formerly a dūtóu of the imperial army. The duke has retained him as a wandering protector.”

“Another bodyguard?” the grandson asked, sniffing his nose.

“Of a sort,” Hong Fei said, interjecting. “The task set to me is to search out threats to the Yu household, wherever they may be.”

The steward raised his hand to stop any further questions from the youths. “Hold, let me finish the introductions. The duke’s grandson is Yu Yong, and this is Chen Zhengyi, his companion. The granddaughter is Yu Ning, and you’ve already met her companion, Mei Hua.”

Zhang Dehua glanced between them to make sure they were behaving properly before dropping his hand. Then, as if signaling the beginning of a race, the youths sped forward—their questions overlapped with each other so that none could be heard clearly.

They were, however, soon interrupted by the arrival of lunch. It was a surprisingly simple of affair of roast pork accompanied by a soup and three vegetable dishes.

Chen Zhengyi waited for the others to be distracted by the food before pouncing. “Hong Fei, the warrior carrying Fortune’s Favor? The rumor was that you were dead.”

The clatter of chopsticks and bowls paused as the words registered among the other youth. Into the silence, Zhang Dehua’s sigh was heard once more.

“What?” Chen Zhengyi protested, looking around. “Just because the rest of you won’t leave the house, doesn’t mean I have to stay cooped up like a chicken among you. Some of us go out and listen for important news.”

“That’s what we have agents for,” Zhang Dehua said patiently. “People like Hong Fei here.”

Yu Ning reached across the table to delicately place a piece of pork in Hong Fei’s bowl. “Tell us the story,” she said, pleading.

Zhang Dehua looked at Hong Fei with sympathy, leaving it to him to decide what and how much to say.

In turn, Hong Fei asked, “Should we wait for the last seats to fill? I would hate to deprive anyone of the opportunity for entertainment.”

“Those are for the duke, the duchess, and for my father,” Yu Ning said, frowning slightly. It seemed she’d caught some of the bite in Hong Fei’s voice. “They won’t be joining us.”

“I see,” Hong Fei said. “Then let me begin at the time when I was first assigned my troop. We were given free rein to roam the Askalousan Steppe and harass the barbarians’ outposts there.”

He would be working with these young people and might as well use the opportunity to earn their respect. A moment’s consideration turned piles of pork into hills, the soup bowl became a salt lake famous for luring people to their deaths, and the rest of the table was converted into assorted other features of the terrain Hong Fei had spent years fighting in.

The youths’ eyes shone as they listened to stories of skirmishes and deceptions—of dark nights and bloody battles. Only Yu Ning continued to frown, perhaps hearing the consequences of heroism hidden between the words being spoken. This was true even though Hong Fei only lightly mentioned the brothers and sisters who’d bled alongside him. The youths hadn’t proven themselves worthy of those stories.

Nor did Hong Fei elaborate on the “mishap” that had led to his troop’s demise. He mentioned only that he was the sole survivor.

After the meal, the steward excused himself to return to work. He instructed Hong Fei to visit him later, so that arrangements could be made for a place to stay at the estate.

As soon as he’d departed, Yu Yong and Chen Zhengyi ran off to duel each other, inspired by the gallantry described by the house’s newest retainer. Mei Hua looked to join them, but a hand from Yu Ning kept her seated. It was just the three of them at the table.

“You have another question for me?” Hong Fei asked.

“An apology,” Yu Ning said. “A sword can be admired, but the edges do cut. It’s the most basic of lessons, but I forgot it in my desire for… entertainment.”

“It’s boring here,” Mei Hua added. “Dreadfully so.”

Yu Ning glanced at her, then nodded in agreement.

“You seem to have plenty of company,” Hong Fei said. “The group from this morning…”

“Don’t know any better,” Mei Hua said, wrinkling her nose. “They’ve never been to the capitol.”

“I barely remember it myself,” Yu Ning said, “except everything seemed brighter and fuller then.”

Mei Hua placed a consoling hand on Yu Ning’s arm, but a moment later, mischief sparked in her eyes. “How about we set our new dūtóu upon the boys? Let’s see how he teaches them a lesson in true swordsmanship.”

The two of them giggled, and they turned their hopeful faces toward Hong Fei. Somehow, he found it impossible to decline.

###

The pace of exercises in the training hall had slowed considerably, with many of the soldiers choosing to rest and watch as the duke’s grandson and his companion dueled at the center of the mat. The two boys’ martial arts were similar at first—a straightforward military approach focused on direct, linear power—but the fighting soon devolved into a flamboyant display of their family styles.

Both were Body-Forged, so the strength and speed seemed impressive. In a real fight, however, such antics would leave them dead in seconds, since those techniques would only work at higher cultivation levels. Yet no one said anything to correct the boys. While some of the soldiers frowned in consternation, others laughed and cheered them on.

It grated on Hong Fei to see even wooden swords treated so poorly. He forgot himself and strode forward to interrupt the duel without any urging. Mei Hua was left behind standing open-mouthed as he yelled, “What in the hells do you think you’re doing? Are you dancing or are you fighting?”

He’d already forcibly taken the swords from the boys when he realized what he’d done. You’re committed now, he thought. Might as well keep going.

So, he turned a stern eye toward where tiny fractures had spread through the training weapons. He looked from Yu Rui to Chen Zhengyi to make sure they were watching, then he slammed the two swords together.

No essence was required, yet both swords broke, the wood splintering. With the speed and power with which the duelists had been fighting, if luck and fate had gone against either of them, they might’ve lost an eye to bits of broken wood flying free.

“We were just having fun,” Yu Yong protested, his ears turning red from embarrassment.

“You have fun at a brothel. When on the training mat, you fight.” Hong Fei shut his mouth and glared at the boys. In the privacy of his mind, however, he wondered if he’d spent too little time outside of soldier camps.

Yu Rui’s ears burned an even brighter red, but Chen Zhengyi was made of sterner stuff. “Then why don’t you show us how a dūtóu fights.” He gestured to the side, and one of the soldiers ran to retrieve two fresh training swords for him.

Hong Fei interrupted his self-reflection to watch how natural it’d been for Chen Zhengyi to command and for the command to be followed. That was either respect or sycophancy at work. Investigation would eventually tell which. That’s my job now, he thought. Uncovering these kinds of relationships within the household—looking for the hidden fractures.

He took the wooden sword from Chen Zhengyi, stood opposite him, and saluted. Hong Fei could have with great patience taught the boy about his limits. Instead, Hong Fei charged as soon as the duel began. His sword half-raised, he blocked the line Chen Zhengyi was preparing to take and deflected his opponent’s blade up and in, so that it pressed against his own body.

Unable to exert any strength with his arms so close to himself, Chen Zhengyi was open to further attack, so Hong Fei’s rear foot rose and gently pressed his opponent’s knee, collapsing his stance to open his neck for assault. Hong Fei drew his sword across its side. In a real fight, blood would’ve sprayed over the soldiers watching.

Hong Fei helped the young man back to standing. “Don’t underestimate the value of military styles. Every family has its secret ways, but use them only after you’ve built your foundation and increased your cultivation.”

Chen Zhengyi pursed his lips. He seemed the kind of person who became angry after losing. Hopefully, the lesson would get through to him later, once he’d calmed and had the opportunity to reflect on the duel.

Yu Yong, meanwhile, was obviously relieved not to have been the object of Hong Fei’s demonstration—until Mei Hui started laughing. Then both boys hunched their shoulders, painfully conscious of having made fools of themselves in front of the fairy.

She stopped laughing when a man and woman walked past her. The noisy hall quieted as they made their entrance.

The man wore a xiàowèi’s insignia on his sleeves, so he was likely the ranking officer for all these soldiers. At his side was a sword, and his hands were appropriately calloused. His face wasn’t remarkable, except for the neatness of his mustache and beard, both of which were impeccable. Above his head, a black 3 hovered.

The woman was taller than Hong Fei by a small margin. She wore a shízhǎng’s insignia and carried a pair of long knives on her belt. A small scar marred her left cheek, running horizontally under the eye. Her long hair was braided, with a shiny, silver token woven into the end. She had a black 6 hovering over her head.

“That was well played,” the man said, smiling. “For a grown man against a child. I didn’t expect to see such a magnificent performance when the steward came to tell me about the new retainer hired by the house.”

Hong Fei stiffened, then consciously released the muscles wanting to tighten. More numbers, but he’d have to deal with what they meant later. For now, he had to deal with a pissing match. “It was merely a lesson in the effectiveness of military arts.”

“Yes, of course,” the xiàowèi replied, looking at the soldiers gathered around.

“I’d heard you were dead,” the woman by his side said.

Hong Fei resisted the urge to grit his teeth. “The rumors were obviously wrong.”

“Too bad the same couldn’t be said about the ones about the rest of your troop,” she replied. “You left them to rotting, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Hong Fei said, plainly. “It’s true.”

The shízhǎng blinked, not expecting him to concede the point. “You’ll have to tell us about it when you officially report for duty.”

Hong Fei made himself smile and let the tip of the wooden sword rest on the ground. He leaned on it casually as he said, “I’ve already presented myself to the duke. I report directly to him and him only.”

Mutters arose from the soldiers watching. More than a few seemed strengthened by the notion of Duke Yu coming out of seclusion.

“Is that so?” the xiàowèi said, eyeing the crowd. “Surely, an experienced warrior like yourself can see the benefits of working together. For the good of the house, of course.”

“Of course,” Hong Fei said, showing his teeth. “If you find anything you’d like to report to me, please feel free to bring it.”

Hong Fei heard gasps, and the mutters grew louder. His stomach sank at the way he was establishing himself and his authority, but a fight—even the political ones—didn’t always go to plan. It didn’t help that the soldiers’ commander was an ass.

“My name is Chen Wenbin,” the xiàowèi said, “and I will remember that offer with the kindness with which it was intended.”

“And I am Hong Fei. What I do, I do with the commitment of a sword swung in earnest.”

He thought he might be challenged to a duel then. The shízhǎng certainly appeared willing with the way she leaned forward, her hands on the hilts of her knives.

But Chen Wenbin shook his head slightly. “We’ll see each other again,” he said and withdrew, taking her with him.

The crowd parted, then dispersed so that they weren’t left standing beside Hong Fei.

Yu Yong craned his neck back and forth between Chen Wenbin and Hong Fei, astonished by the clash between the two men. Beside him, Chen Zhengyi looked smug. Likely, the boy was related to the xiàowèi, perhaps a nephew.

Meanwhile, Mei Hua’s eyes sparkled in delight. “You are going to be so much fun.”

Yu Ning simply shook her head.

And Hong Fei thought to himself, You certainly have an excellent way of making friends.

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